Quite Like You
by Scarlettfish
Summary: Post Normal Again. Buffy is given a gift, but what form does it take? And what does Spike have to do with it? B/S CHAPTER TWO NOW UP
1. You Make Me Sick

Quite Like You  
  
Chapter One - "You Make Me Sick"  
  
  
"I can do this," Buffy told herself. "I'm strong. I can handle this". She stared ahead of her warily, as if not convinced by her own words.  
  
She rocked back on her heels, making her first tentative, painful movements. But she honestly felt that if she were to get up, she'd be down there again.   
  
Kneeling by the toilet, throwing up.  
  
Buffy was tired. So tired. She pinned the throwing up on the less-than-healthy combination of Doublemeat Palace Burgers and demon antidote. Whatever it was, it was making her tired and bitchy. Considering her behaviour recently, which involved nearly feeding her family and friends to a demon, being bitchy probably wasn't too good an idea. Not to mention the fact that it made slaying rather difficult.  
  
But the slaying never stopped, and tonight was no different. She stood up tentatively and washed her face. Flinging her black leather jacket over her shoulders, she said good night to Dawn, made sure Willow was home, and set off for another long night of slaying. She tried not to think about what she'd like to be doing after slaying.   
  
She noted thankfully, after spending at least an hour combing her usual haunts, that it seemed to be a relatively quiet night. She felt oddly non-aggressive, unusual considering that slaying usually provided her emotional release. But of course, fighting demons, in this case, actually reminded her of the whole problem. Besides the throwing up, of course.   
  
Spike.  
  
Not that he was particularly "evil", even though she sometimes treated him like he was. It was just that the physicality of fighting, the thrill that she got from slaying, reminded her of Spike. He liked the dance. He made no secret of that. She liked it too. The only difference was that she tried with everything she had in her to hide it.   
  
Consumed by her thoughts, she found herself walking past Spike's crypt. She didn't mean to go there, but somehow, it was always the place she ended up.   
  
She walked quietly past the crypt. There might be vampires, or demons nearby, she reasoned to herself. Nothing. "But I didn't really check it out all that well", she said to herself. She turned on her heel and walked past the door again.   
  
She prayed that Spike wouldn't choose to come outside now. What was she going to say if he discovered that she was walking backwards and forwards in front of his crypt? Damn Spike. Damn him and the way he could see right through her. Why did things with him have to be so complicated?  
  
In spite of herself, or perhaps because of herself, Buffy knew deep down that she was wrong. She had been so wrong. She thought of the time when she had beat him, pouring all of her frustration towards herself on to him. His face. But, where a mortal man might have given up, Spike stayed. He always stayed. Which was why Buffy was walking past his crypt, staring at her feet and muttering "Damn you Spike" whilst kicking a stone along.  
  
Of course, Spike chose that moment to open his crypt door. He always chose the most convenient moments, didn't he? Buffy flashed back to the first morning-after, remembering the look on his face when she had called him convenient. Yet another time she had got it wrong. He wasn't convenient at all. He was just the opposite.  
  
"There's a problem, Slayer?" Spike asked, leaning against the doorframe of his crypt.  
  
"Um, no. Nothing's wrong. Nothing at all. I was just...ah, patrolling. Yeah, patrolling. I'm big with the patrolling. All patrol-ly, you know," Buffy babbled, trying not to miss the way he rolled "luv", "pet" and even "Goldilocks" off his tongue. She was just Slayer to him now.   
  
"Quite a busy night, eh?" Spike said, doing his best, annoying "I know that you're lying because I can see right through you" look.  
  
"Very busy. Lots of scary demons and vampires. You might want to go back inside there, Spike. It's not safe," she said, trying to sound flippant.  
  
"Wouldn't want me to get hurt, would you Slayer? Unless you're the one doing all the...hurting," he said with a slight leer on his face.  
  
Buffy had no answer to that. "You make me sick, Spike," she said, trying to sound as if she meant it. Regret washed over her. She didn't need to see that look on his face anymore.  
  
"Look Spike, I shouldn't be here, so I'm leaving, ok?" Buffy said, exasperated with herself.  
  
"I'm not making you stay. I've never made you do anything," he said pointedly.   
  
"Yeah, I know," Buffy replied, looking down at her feet.  
  
Minutes passed. "Um, Buffy," Spike said. "You do realise that you were supposed to be leaving, right?"  
  
"Just give me a minute Spike," Buffy replied. "I'm not feeling the best". That was an understatement - she felt even worse than she did after her drunken binge with Spike. Why did Spike always have to be the one to see her like this?  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry," Spike replied. All at once, he turned from "sarcastic, sex-god" Spike into "caring, concerned" Spike. Damn him. He walked over and placed one hand on her back. "Is there anything I can do?"  
  
"No," Buffy replied, too sick to object to his comforting touch. "I just need to sit for a few minutes. Or possibly hours." She sunk to her knees and sat on the nearest tombstone.  
  
"I've got time," Spike said softly, feeling the way her reluctant weakness made his resolve melt. This was a new experience for both of them - her admitting, he being allowed to comfort. He noticed the thinly veiled concern on Buffy's face, but decided not to question her. Talking tended to lead to bad things. Best be quiet.   
  
Time passed. Neither of them moved. Finally, Buffy stood.  
  
"Thank you Spike," she said slowly, turning and walking tentatively away.  
  
"You're welcome," he said to the wind. He tried not to think about what it meant that Buffy had finally said thank you to him. 


	2. Love Tried to Welcome Me

Chapter Two - Love Tried to Welcome Me  
  
Buffy fiddled nervously with her hands, opening and closing the women's magazines that were scattered around the doctor's office. She tried to look at the pictures in the magazines, but the whining of nearby children distracted her. 'Why don't their mothers do something?' Buffy wondered idly.   
  
The door to the examining room opened and the doctor called her through.  
  
"Good afternoon Miss Summers," the doctor said, smiling at Buffy.  
  
Buffy smiled back and sat nervously on the edge of the black chair in front of his desk. "Um...so, do you know what's wrong with me?" she asked nervously.  
  
"How's everything been going for you, Miss Summers? You managing everything okay?" the doctor asked. Buffy bristled. She was here to find a quick solution to her problem and this guy wanted to talk?  
  
"Yeah. Everything's fine," she said shortly. A smile would probably help to convince him, so she forced herself to smile thinly.  
  
"So, is there anyone special in your life? A partner?" he asked.  
  
Okay, now this was getting ridiculous. "Uh, no. I mean..." Okay, so not ready to go there with this guy. "I haven't really been seeing anyone, no."  
  
"Miss Summers, I've done all the testing I can, and there's absolutely nothing wrong with you," the doctor said.  
  
"Great. Can I go now?" asked Buffy, getting up to leave, relieved beyond words.  
  
"Sit down, Miss Summers. There's nothing wrong with you, but I do have some news for you. You're having a baby," the doctor said, eyeing her as if unsure how she would take the news.  
  
"What?" Buffy said, shaking her head in disbelief. "I can't have a baby. I mean, we can't have a baby. I mean, he can't have a baby. There's no baby! There's something wrong with the test. Can I take it again? I don't test well," Buffy babbled.  
  
"Miss Summers, I'm quite sure. Congratulations. I understand that this may be difficult for you, due to your age and your...lack of partner. But we have services to help you," the doctor said, pulling out some pamphlets and handing them to her.  
  
Buffy didn't move. The doctor continued to talk, but Buffy didn't hear a word. The words "a baby" were reverberating in her ear as she traced the pattern of the doctor's wood grain desk slowly with her eyes.  
  
*****************************************************************  
  
Buffy could never remember how she got home that day. She had a dim memory of walking along the streets of Sunnydale, but she didn't have any concrete memories. It was all just a blur. All she knew was that, somehow, she was sitting on her bed in her own room, staring at the wall with that familiar blank expression on her face.  
  
All of a sudden, she laughed. A bitter, broken laugh. How could she, of all people, be pregnant? For one, it was technically impossible. Vampires didn't have babies. Angel told her that. Angel never would have lied to her.  
  
Plus, there was the fact that she was still a child herself. A child having a child, she thought to herself. How wonderfully ironic. She was so good at growing up and being the adult, wasn't she? So good that Dawn turned to a life of petty theft because she had neglected her. The house was a mess, she hated her job and she only ever had enough money to get through the week. Yeah, she was going to be a great mother.   
  
Mother. Mother. She tried out the word on her tongue several times, accenting different syllables. It didn't work. The word still seemed foreign to her. Mother was warm, cosy and comfortable. Mother wasn't her. She was cold and hard.  
  
And, of course, there was Spike. It always came back to Spike, she thought wryly. There wasn't anybody quite like Spike. So much for the convenient vampire. It couldn't be true. Spike just couldn't be the father of her child. Their child.  
  
Buffy groaned and lay down on her bed, grabbing Mr Gordo and playing idly with her pig's ears. She looked around her room. It hadn't changed much in the six years she'd been in Sunnydale - a living monument to a childhood long gone. The sheer fluffiness of the room didn't suit her. She was too hard, she had too many edges for this room. A memory of her and Spike discussing interior design suggestions flitted through her brain. She briefly smiled at the memory.  
  
It couldn't be true. She couldn't be pregnant. There was just some horrible mistake. Or, maybe tomorrow morning she'd wake up from this dream. No, she wasn't having a baby.   
  
She looked down at her arms. They were clasped around her stomach, as if by instinct her body was protecting her baby from her own thoughts. Her arms dropped to her sides, as if her stomach was burning her. It was true. She had known from the beginning. She was having a baby.   
  
What on earth was she going to do? She could just imagine the conversation she'd have with Spike - "Hi Spike. Guess what? I'm having a baby and you're the father! I know it's technically impossible, but that doesn't matter. Happy?" Even worse still, the conversation she'd have with her friends. Their incredulity wouldn't begin to compare to what she was feeling now. Plus, she might actually have to tell them about her and Spike. She was definitely looking forward to that little conversation. She cringed.   
  
Getting up from her bed, she wandered around her room. In a ball in the corner of her room was a pile of laundry that she'd left undone. She picked up a lacy shirt and tried to smooth out the creases. It occurred to her that this was the shirt she wore the night she...No, best to not think about that, she decided, trying to turn off her thoughts as if they were pictures on a television screen. It didn't work. She had to think about Spike.   
  
She thought about all the times she'd said things that cut a little too deep, about all the times when she'd seen that look on Spike's face. She hated that look. He wasn't supposed to look like that. She hated herself for doing it every time, but she couldn't stop. Every thing in her wanted to be with Spike, but that was wrong, wasn't it?  
  
Well, that's over now, thanks to her. She was using him, she told him. It was so easy to tell him that she was using him. But that didn't even matter anymore, did it? Because it was something more - whatever had happened with Spike, whatever would happen with Spike, there was now a child. The thought occurred to her that she'd already failed her child. She failed everyone - everyone she loved. Her mother, her friends, her sister and Spike. Especially Spike. Everyone she loved?   
  
The tears finally came.  
  
"Buffy," called Dawn from the stairs. "Spike's here and he wants to see you." 


End file.
